


Tony Pretends To Date Steve (Until He Doesn't Have To)

by HappyStony



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dating, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Oblivious Tony, Obliviousness, Pining, Pining Tony, Sorry not sorry?, Um I think that's it, kind of, pining Steve?, pretend dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-08 02:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14684550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyStony/pseuds/HappyStony
Summary: "You alright?"Of course he was not alright! Tony had a blue eyed, blond haired, six foot too high, two hundred who knows what pound, too sexy for his own good ninety something, mentally twenty, year old man on top of him. Who even asks that question in a situation like that?Or:Basically the title. Tony pretends he's dating Steve until...well, you know.





	Tony Pretends To Date Steve (Until He Doesn't Have To)

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy hope y'all enjoy and uh yeah. This took me way longer than it should have honestly ?? I just really hope some of y'all enjoy it!!

How the fuck did he get into this situation?

Okay, okay, scratch that. He knows how he got into it. Hell, he's been begging for it for months now. It's more like:  
Why the fuck does shit like this happen to him?

Yeah, that's more like it. Now, the answer? Who knows. Maybe it's somewhere between the moment he and Steve met, to about two days, thirteen hours, and six minutes ago. That leaves one year, seven months, seven days, eight hours and twenty-three minutes of time to look back on.

Okay. He can do this.

Sit back, relax, and...think.

~~~  
One year, seven months, and nine days ago:

**_Mm. Not that far back. What about the moment right before he was enjoying Steve's presence?  
Rewind._ **

~~~  
One year, seven months, and nine days ago:

**_Fucker. Never mind. Go back to an important time other than this._ **

  
~~~  
One year, three months, and eight days ago:

The third bomb detonates itself one minute later, and Natasha grunts over the comms.

"Guys, they're set one minute from one another; exactly sixteen meters apart."

Tony quickly checks, using the suit to get the time difference between the first three bombs, and confirms within seconds.

"Widow's right, Cap. You've got a plan yet?"

It's silent for a while, each avenger feeling useless as they watch SHIELD agents help civilians trapped in torn buildings. The only one seeming to actually not mind is Thor.

"Thirty seconds left; twenty-nine, twenty-eight," Natasha informs hurriedly, unable to contain her annoyance from Steve's lack of response.

Steve finally huffs.

"Iron Man take Hawkeye and fly over to the fifth bomb. Fourth is too late already."

"We've got that," Natasha unhelpfully adds, and Tony barely holds in a snicker. Natasha, use to being solo, has been having a hard time adjusting to standing back and following orders, but even Tony has to agree Steve's been a bit slow, still trying to get used to the group and, well, the twenty-first century, so Tony can't exactly judge. Doesn't stop Natasha though, but that's because she's rarely sympathetic.

Steve sighs, frustrated. "Okay. Fine. Like I said, Iron Man..."

The fourth bomb detonates. There are more screams, and Iron Man flies off, looking for Clint's coordinates.

Natasha growls over the comm. "Why does Iron Man need Hawkeye, exactly?"

It takes a beat for Steve to respond, just as Tony dips down to retrieve Clint.

"Back-up." Was Steve's unhelpful reply. Natasha makes a frustrated noise.

"Captain," she stops and grunts, and there's a bit of chatter as Natasha helps a few civilians out of their collapsed home. Thor randomly speaks, and now Tony has Clint in his arms for no reason, flying towards a bomb.

"I fear we have been of no assistance," Thor says. "We need those bombs contained."

"I've got it!" Steve yells, and Iron Man quickly flies past the fifth bomb, dropping Clint off and landing at the sixth, the fifth ready to explode in exactly thirty seconds; not enough time to disarm a bomb that you have no previous knowledge of.

"Then tell us!" Natasha says. "We've done nothing but stand here as bombs go off!"

"Shut it, Widow," Steve grits. "I'm trying to think."

"Well stop thinking and start _doing_ something!"

The fifth bomb goes off. Tony winces as he finally sees the sixth bomb, and then his expression morphs hesitantly, as he nods his head.

"Huh, I think I can do this," Tony says aloud, as Steve and Natasha continue to bicker. Clint awkwardly stands from next to him.

"Should I...do anything?" Clint asks cautiously but Tony ignores him. Not on purpose—well, not entirely. He's just got forty seconds to stop a bomb that he's right in front of, so he's a bit preoccupied.

"You're risking the lives of two Avengers," Natasha says over the comms. "Having Iron Man there is your smartest move right now, but other than that, all I see are unnecessary risks."

"Ay," Thor adds, surprisingly listening. But that's all the input he has.

Steve sighs. "Fine. Okay. Thanks for the constructive criticism. Can I do my job now?"

Tony finally sweats a bead when he sees the wiring, having to take a good guess at which wire to snip. God, so cliché.

This person is experienced. Of course they are. They built ten different bombs and lied them out over the city and set them exactly a minute from one another. This person not only knows what they're doing, but they've been planning this. Unfortunately, Tony can't defuse the bomb right now, either. He's having JARVIS scan it, and he tries his best to think, but the madman has purposely but at least twelve different wires just to confuse everyone. 

He grabs Clint by the waist, and the man grunts as Tony quickly flies off, back to where the Avengers are helping the trapped and injured.

He sets Clint down, and Steve says incredulously, "Iron Man!"

Tony looks around, but can't spot Steve, so he just raises his arms frustratingly. "There isn't enough time! A minute isn't—"

The sixth bomb goes off. More screams and more damage. Tony looks up, around, and he thinks of something. He quickly switches off the comm and speaks to JARVIS privately.

"Hey, where's the nearest remote area, with a radius of at least eighteen meters. Sixteen and a half might do."

There's an insistent beeping, meaning that someone is trying to get in contact with him, but he ignores it as JARVIS looks for a location.

"Riler Beach is twelve miles east. There's also Ginger Hill six miles north but it has the remote radius of approximately 15.36 meters."

"That'll just have to do," Tony mutters, and then, louder, "How much longer 'till the seventh bomb goes off?" He starts flying toward the eighth bomb. There's still beeping from the comms.

"Thirty-three seconds, Sir."

Tony zooms past it and quickly arrives near the eighth bomb, and he scans the area quickly and finally locates it. He picks it up and flies toward the ninth one.

"You said the hill was north?"

The helmet quickly shows a map, and where he should head, as he drops down to pick the ninth bomb.

"Shall I put the Captain through, Sir, or are you content with ignoring him?"

He looks down at the two ticking bombs in his hands and shakes his head contemplatively.

"Eh, I guess." He locates the tenth bomb quickly and tries not to freak out over having three different bombs in his arms, right in front of the arc reactor. But, hey, he's always had a streak of luck during the worst of moments. The fact that he's still alive proves it.

"—lucky I don't have the authority to do that because if I did, so help me God—"

"Sorry, not him. Though there is Thor," Tony says distractedly, and he distantly hears the seventh bomb go off. Steve actually swears.

"Stark! You've gone rogue! I'm talking to Fury about this and asking for an immediate suspension!"

"Well, that's inappropriate. Calling me by my sir name, I thought that wasn't allowed," Tony replies, and Steve barely has time to splutter before Tony asks JARVIS to switch the comms off again.

"How much longer until the eighth bomb goes off?" Tony asks, and he tries his best to fly faster, his jet boots making him jolt a bit when he increases his speed.

"Twenty seconds. I recommend you drop them," JARVIS says, and Tony winces.

"Yeah, that's what's gonna have to happen." He finally arrives at the middle of Ginger Hill, and he doesn't hesitate as he lets go of them. He does a quick scan, making sure no one decided to take a hike in the middle of a terrible snowy day. That would be just his luck, wouldn't it? Should he complain? Maybe. But, luckily, from what Tony can scan, there isn't anybody nearby, so he takes off towards the direction the Avengers are at.

It's barely ten seconds and the eighth bomb goes off, and then a few seconds later the ninth and tenth go off as well, either from the explosion beforehand or the impact onto the ground.

His comms never stopped beeping, and when he finally turns them back on, at least five people are talking at the same time.

"—at risk. I'm so _done_ with you—"

"—of Iron! I am most grateful for your—"

"— _dumb_. Fury's going to be so _mad—_ "

"—job. Now we're _all_ going to pay for this."

When Tony lands, all his teammates are looking at him with different expressions, but Steve's is the worst. He pulls his cowl off, uncaring of who's around, glowering and seething. Everyone goes quiet. Tony takes his time to survey Steve, wondering why the hell he doesn't feel intimitaded while everyone else does.

Maybe it's the tousled hair; the blonde locks all over, making him look even younger. The red, flushed cheeks, and angry pursed lips. All the anger in his eyes make them all the more blue, which stands out heavily. He looks cute. Which is weird.

"Iron Man," Steve says, low and threatening. "You're suspended from Avengers duty until I see improvement in your performance. The suit isn't allowed to be used unless we come across a level eight or above threat—"

Tony guffaws, looking around at his teammates. They don't look at him, so he looks back at Steve.

"This is _my_ suit. I can do whatever the hell I want with it."

"—any more insubordinate actions will result in, but won't be limited to, the forced removal of the Iron Man suit and possible arrest."

"What the _fuck_ , Rogers—" Tony tries, but Steve shakes his head, walking away.

"You may express any comments and concerns to Nick Fury. Do not contact me unless ordered to by the Director."

Tony watches his retreating figure, mouth wide open. He flips his mask up, looking at the others incredulously. He looks back between Clint and Thor, and then glances at Natasha, but no one says anything.

"Guys," Tony says desperately, and Natasha shakes her head.

"No, Tony. Even I wouldn't do something like that."

"What did I—"

Clint sighs. "Come on, Tony. You know what you did. And not only did you completely ignore all of us, but you didn't bother to tell anyone what you were doing. For all we knew, you were planning a suicide mission."

"But I—"

Thor walks over and claps him in the back.

"My sincerest apologies, Anthony, but I have to agree with Barton. You gave no hint as to what you were doing, and risked lives dropping those bombs overhead so carelessly."

"I had it all planned out!" Tony stresses, and Natasha crosses her arms.

"Yeah." She glares. "Maybe we would have known that if you said something." She turns sharply, walking away. Clint follows, and eventually Thor does, too.

The thought of Steve and his weirdly attractive self is long gone by the time Tony goes home and wrecks his workshop, but it lingers. And lingers.  
And lingers.

Until...

  
~~~  
One year, two months, twelve days ago:

It's about a month later when Tony gets a curt call from Fury, telling him that he's back on the team. Pft. Like that's any better. Now that Tony thinks about it, it was nice having all that time not worrying about saving lives and risking his own; waking up at two in the morning to take care of a problem hours away from him. Dealing with an insufferable leader who doesn't know how to lead teammates almost as stubborn as him.

Yeah. His month of solitude was nice. And now they're asking for him back? No, 'allowing' him to come back. Like _he_ lost _them_. No. Hell no.

But he's Tony Stark, which he guesses is synonymous with predictable, because not even a day goes by before Steve is at his workshop, access granted by JARVIS (the traitor). Tony wakes up from his power nap with a snort.

"Huh? What? Who?"

Steve doesn't look amused. He's dressed casually, and honestly, he's the first person that Tony has seen in a month (other than Pepper and Rhodey but that was over a screen and they don't count), so a quick, "Hey cutie" almost pops out. He's too tired to laugh at himself. 

Tony rubs his eyes, and apparently that was enough of a sign of something for Steve.

"I...wanted to check up on you. And make sure you got the message from Fury. Your suspension is over, and you're back on the field." Steve pauses, probably waiting for Tony to say something, but he's still reaching to the point of half awake and his head hurts like a bitch. "We...we haven't properly discussed what happened. The team and I have had several meetings and trainings since the time you've been gone, and we've learned to work together much more efficiently. We can work out a schedule to get you on track."

Tony feels around his teeth with his tongue, wincing. When was the last time he brushed his teeth?

Steve clears his throat. "I...I'd like to be the first to apologize. Perhaps I did react...a bit excessively, and I'm sorry for that. I wasn't a very good leader then, I can see and admit that now, and I would like to receive your forgiveness."

Tony rubs his face, and then his head, and then the back of his neck tiredly. He can't take Steve seriously right now. Not with his hair perfectly gelled, slicked to the side. His clothes fit so perfectly, and he's wearing Converse; which is adorable. It's a bit refreshing seeing him so casual, and Tony smiles as the first thought that comes to mind is 'boyfriend'.

And maybe it's because he's still asleep, has been awake for probably three days, the last time he ate was more or less nine hours ago, and he's most likely dehydrated, that a little game pops into his head. An innocent game, involving two players, but only one knows he's playing it.

Okay, if Steve were his loving boyfriend, how would he react? In a healthy relationship, he should forgive and forget.

So, he laughs.

"It's fine, Steve," he says, and the way Steve's face contorts into confusion makes this all the more fun. Hm. How long can he get away with this? Now, that's a challenge. "I get it. I wasn't listening, I did something dangerous, you and everybody else were worried about me and what was going to happen. You did what you thought was best. I forgive you. And," Tony shrugs, heart beating fast, wondering if Steve was going to catch on; wondering if he's going to get mad. "I'm sorry, too."

End scene.

That was a lot more fun than Tony anticipated. He should become an actor, honestly.

Steve looks around, and the way his eyebrows furrow is adorable.

"I—are you okay?" Steve asks, and Tony nods.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Steve stands there, eyes calculating. Tony shuffles a bit uncertainly but he knows that with enough practice he could probably get use to this. Pretending Steve's his boyfriend.

It won't exactly hurt anyone.

Finally, Steve relents.

"Okay. Great. Ah, call, or text—or email, when you're available. For the—for the team practice. Bonding. Training. Bye."

"See you later," Tony says, but Steve doesn't hesitate when he walks out. It still makes him smile though.

This is fun. It probably won't last long, but for the moment, it's fun.

(Spoiler: It does last. Longer than it really should.)

  
~~~  
One year, two months, and five days ago:

  
It starts out slow. Or, well, slow compared to Tony's usual pace. It's only been about a week, so it isn't exactly like he could get any more comfortable. Not that he's forcing himself to secretly act like Steve's boyfriend. It's funny; like an inside joke. Only for himself. Something no one can bother him about.

But this isn't going to go any further with the way things are, so he invites everyone to live in the tower. It's nice of him, really, and it's not only to get closer to Steve; it would be better for the team, to stay close to one another, bond, and it'll be easier to communicate.

Well, that's what he says to Fury, and that convinces him, surprisingly. And the others. He didn't think Natasha would accept, but she seems to not mind. In fact, the only person really objecting to it is Steve.

Fucking Steve.

And now he's here, inside Steve's sad excuse of a home, at  
SHIELD.

"This place screams misery," Tony says, inspecting the dust on the desk in Steve's room. Steve sighs, standing up from where he was sitting to put his art supplies away.

"You didn't even knock," Steve mutters, shoving his brushes and pencils into a little bag. Tony shrugs nonchalantly.

"You didn't lock the door. And, by the way, at the tower you wouldn't have anyone barging in like I just did. You won't even need to remember to lock anything up. It's all handled by JARVIS," Tony says, purposely stabbing a bit to make Steve feel guilty.

It works. Kind of. Steve just shakes his head, but at least he looks a bit guilty.

"Stark," he says a bit frustratedly, putting the little bag of art supplies into a drawer. Tony shakes his head. He crosses his arms and suddenly he's playing boyfriend again.

"Nuh-uh, don't do this to me, Steve. Everyone else have already accepted. Everyone's moving in by next week. Everyone except you."

Steve looks at him, opens his mouth, but Tony steps closer, and this could be pushing the boundaries, but he's always been a risk taker.

"I get it," Tony says, as sincerely as he could (as any loving boyfriend would), "you're probably scared. And I get that. You're in a new century, this is the first place you've gotten accustomed to, and now someone's asking you to start over, again. But the difference this time, is that you're not just living in a new place. I'm offering you a home, Steve."

Somewhere in that spiel he got closer to Steve, and now he's got a hand on his shoulder, genuinely looking into Steve's eyes. When the moment for Tony is over, he almost steps back, but he barely stops his eyes widening when Steve smiles, and pulls Tony into a hug.

"Thank you," he whispers, and Tony blinks and quickly hugs back. Awkwardly, of course, he's just not experienced in that field yet but he'll get around to it.

Steve moves in two days later.

  
~~~  
One year, one month, and nine days ago:

  
This is boring. He doesn't exactly flirt with Steve, but that's because couples don't usually flirt with one another. Maybe as a joke, but what's the point when they're already dating?

Also, Steve is the most boring boyfriend ever. He never really even talks to Tony. The only time they exchange more than just a couple words is on the field. That's not enough for Tony.

But cute little nicknames are a thing, right? Like babe, hun, honey, sugar, darling; all that crap is couple like, right? So Tony slowly adds it into his vocabulary. He takes the leap and calls Steve 'babe'.

It isn't exactly noticed, because he has nicknames for everyone. But he's going to try with Steve. He wants to use cute ones; casual. Showing he's comfortable.

No one really notices still, even when Tony does it more obviously. It's nice, when Tony starts to think about it. It's really nice, pretending he has a boyfriend, and no one having to ask a thing about it.

No one even suspecting.

It's something innocent. It isn't hurting anyone, especially not Tony. Tony knows that Steve isn't his boyfriend; he knows that crystal clear. He knows that Steve will never, ever like him that way, and he's okay with that. In fact, it makes this whole game so much easier. There's no broken hearts, or teary midnight confessions. No friends that will be on both of their backs, asking one not to hurt the other.

It's just a game for Tony, and Tony alone, and it's fun. Like a secret. Hell, it is a secret. Plus, it's great practice for when he does try an actual relationship again. Or practice for a movie. Whichever comes first.

"Babe," Tony says tiredly, pointing at the coffee, "more coffee."

Steve looks at him, from next to him, and shakes his head. "Fill your own coffee."

Tony pouts.

See? Terrible boyfriend.

"After all I've done for you?" Tony asks, dramatically. He almost slips when the next words he thinks are, 'being an amazing boyfriend?' Luckily he catches his tongue but either way Steve speaks.

"You know, when I agreed to live here, I thought I was promised in not having to worry about people barging in. But here you are."

Tony's surprised when he laughs. He should be offended, honestly, but he did not expect that to come from Steve.

"Well then," Tony sniffs, standing. "I mean, it is my kitchen for the most part but, whatever. You would be the guest here, not me, but." Tony shrugs, and Steve watches him, amused. Tony walks away and Steve doesn't come after him.

It's funny. Almost like a double life, but only through his eyes.

  
~~~  
Eleven months and eighteen days ago:

  
They argue. Nothing ever serious, not after that first time months ago, when Steve was still new; well, everyone was new, but Steve was newer because he kind of just woke up from a seventy year nap.

It's easy to use these arguments as boyfriend moments. Sure, there's no cuddling, or angry sex afterwards, but Tony finds other ways to make the game fun.

"I know you're always going to be like this," Steve says, sighing. "I know that it's just who you are, but how many times does this have to happen before something backfires?"

Tony would have just shrugged, but seeing as they're talking about work, and with Steve being Tony's fake boyfriend and all, he takes it up a notch, pretending to be frustrated. He needs something; a yelling match, anything, to make this relationship more interesting.

So he bitterly sighs, rubbing his eyes.

"Steve," he says slowly, and he looks up at him, annoyed. "If you know how I am, then why don't you just accept it? I try, alright? I try for you, for the team, and I do great. You _know_ I do great. Sure, I do things a bit risky, but they work."

Steve splutters, and finally finds words. "No! Just because it works, _sometimes_ , doesn't mean it's safe. Anything can happen. And not only to you! You're affecting others when you do stuff like this!" Steve takes a breath, and Tony uses that to put a few words in.

"I do this because it's my job, Steve. Try asking me for something else, instead of forcing me to change."

Steve throws his hands up, and Tony inwardly smiles. Why is Steve so cute when he's mad? His face gets all flushed and somehow his hair gets all crazy. It's absolutely adorable.

"All I'm asking is for you to tell us what the hell you're doing when you're doing it! It'll keep a few more years on me, Christ."

Tony can't think of anything else to rile Steve up without certainly pissing him off, so he nods. He still acts angry, though, for the little bit of drama.

"Fine. I'll try. Better?"

Steve starts to say something, and then he just nods, closing his mouth. They just stand there for awhile, and then Steve nods again, making a small 'humph' noise, and then walks away.

God, he's too cute.

  
~~~  
Ten months and six days ago:

  
Steve's starting to get better at the whole boyfriend thing. He isn't a great boyfriend, but he's better.  
(It's because they're actually friends now.)

Sometimes it's a bit awkward, mostly on Tony's part, because now that they're actually friends, it's harder to keep playing that stupid game. It's been months, though, so might as well keep going, right? Tony can stop when he wants.

"Good morning," Steve says casually, drinking a disgusting looking smoothie. It's a disturbing green, meaning that there's probably a good chance that there's at least one vegetable.

Steve notices Tony's expression and laughs.

"Want some?" He offers, tilting his cup towards him, and Tony shakes his head, quickly walking past to get to the fridge.

"No way, sweetheart. Not today. I'd like to keep whatever I have in my stomach than yack it up before eight in the morning."

Steve chuckles, the sound coming out a bit echoed because of the cup near his mouth, and he takes a healthy gulp, once Tony looks over. Tony pretends to gag.

"Flirting before eight?" Clint says, yawning as he walks in. He stretches obnoxiously and then shakes it off. "Phew. That's a new record."

He tilts his head as he beelines for a specific cupboard. "Wait, never mind. There was—"

"Five thirty," Natasha says, walking in while putting on a large earring. "April. I still remember because they woke me up."

Steve looks back at Tony in surprise, and then back at Clint and Natasha.

" _What_? We were probably arguing—"

Tony brushes it off, looking back into the refrigerator. Clint makes a small, "Aha!" Noise as he finds what he's looking for, and pulls out a popcorn bag.

"To be fair, you were sleeping on the floor behind the couch. You have your own damn bedroom," Tony says, taking the milk out. Cereal it is, then.

Steve looks back at Tony with wide eyes. "They're saying we're _flirting_."

"And?" Tony asks, and Steve scoffs in disbelief. "What? You'd know if I were flirting with you, darling, and obviously I'm not. Don't pay attention to what these losers say." He grabs the Fruit Loops and pours them into a bowl.

Clint pulls his popcorn out of the microwave. "So what if you two flirt. Natasha flirts with me all the time. It's normal."

Natasha walks over and swats his head. Clint ducks, shouting a loud, "Ow! Not fair!"

Natasha smirks, and then steals Tony's cereal just as he puts the milk away. He gasps when he turns to see her shoving a spoonful of Fruit Loops into her mouth. She winks.

Steve groans, and drinks the rest of his smoothie quickly. "It's too early for this nonsense. I'm going for a walk."

"But you just went out!" Tony says, forgetting about the stupid cereal. He ignores Natasha's raised brow.

Steve rinses his cup out. "I know. But that was for a run. Now I'm going for a walk." He stops, turning slowly to smirk at Tony, challengingly. "Unless you want to join me?"

Tony scrunches his nose, clearly uninterested. Which is why Steve is looking at him smugly, and now walking away.

Never mind. He's a bad boyfriend. A really, really bad boyfriend.

Clint laughs loudly. "He just—ha!"

  
~~~  
Nine months and four days ago:

  
"Stop looking at me like that," Tony says, because really, he's Steve's boyfriend. In his head, but still. He should be a good boyfriend, and good boyfriends always give amazing gifts for their special partners birthday.

But Steve's looking at him like he's going to cry. At least his eyes aren't watering; then Tony would be worried.

Steve finally closes his mouth, and looks back at all the amazing, expensive art supplies Tony got for him.

"Tony," he breathes out but Tony waves it off. Okay break time from boyfriend. This is getting too personal. Time to act as a friend.

"I'm rich. Probably anybody who knows you would immediately think 'art'. Nothing too special. Just make sure you enjoy it."

"But," Steve starts, looking back between all of those stacks of markers, pens, pencils, sketchbooks, DVD's about art, books about art, rulers, erasers, paints, paintbrushes, charcoal, blank canvases of every size. Okay. Yeah. It's a bit much, but Tony's a generous person, isn't he?

"No, stop there. Just tell me you like it."

"I love it," Steve says, and he looks at Tony with watering eyes, now. Oh dear. Tony awkwardly smiles, and claps Steve on the shoulder.

"Good, okay. I'll leave you to it, then—"

Steve pulls him into a hug. A tight, bone crushing hug.

"Oh-kay there, buddy," Tony wheezes, and Steve eases up a bit, but doesn't let go. Tony does his famous awkward pat on the back again.

Damn. He went overboard, didn't he?

  
~~~  
Eight months and sixteen days ago:

  
"Babe!" Tony calls out, rolling down a bit so that his hand can appear out from underneath the car. Steve hums, but the pencil scratching against the paper doesn't stop. "The bottle, and a new rag."

He throws his dirty rag out to get it out of the way. He hears Steve get up, and then he feels a new, clean rag in his hand, and a spray bottle set beside his fingers. He grabs it and starts to clean underneath his car.

"So," Steve says casually; too casually. Which means whatever he's about to say is probably important. Tony stops to listen. "What do you think about...I don't know, me...meeting someone?"

Tony slowly wheels himself out, and when his head is clear he sits up. Wow.

Wow. This is tough.

It feels like Steve's breaking up with him.

He smiles cheekily.

"Oh," he says, setting the rag and the bottle down next to him. "Did Captain America _meet_ someone?"

Steve actually blushes. It makes Tony jealous. Irrationally so. He knows Steve isn't his and that Steve doesn't like him. Never will. He knows that, dammit. So, quickly, the little tightness in his chest dissipates, and he feels a lot better. He knows what's happening. It's fine now.

Steve met someone, and that's actually great for him.

"Yeah," Steve says sheepishly. "Yeah. I did. Her names Rebecca. Bec for short."

Tony barely contains a snort. No. He shouldn't be bitter, or jealous. He really shouldn't. Stop it. But, come on, Bec? Bec and Steve don't sound right together.

"Hm," Tony says, and deciding that the conversation isn't interesting anymore, he leans back down to continue what he was doing. Steve doesn't get the hint, unfortunately.

"I asked her to have dinner with me Saturday, but I haven't decided on a place yet. Know any good restaurants?"

"The ones I know are probably too expensive," Tony says, trying his best to not sound annoyed. _Stop it. Bad Tony_. He glares at the car on top of him, partially glad half of his body is hidden. 

"Oh," Steve replies, and it's uncomfortably silent. Tony mouths a swear, making faces and pretending to aggressively punch the car, before he gently clears his throat and says:

"Well, there is this one place..."

  
~~~  
Eight months and fifteen days ago:

  
Just like any good boyfriend, Tony takes Steve out on a date. Not that Steve even knows it's one...or that they're trying the place out before Steve takes his _real_ date here.

"You really don't mind?" Steve asks nervously, taking his seat across from Tony. Tony shakes his head, looking through the menu.

"Nope. I've got nothing better to do," He says, not sure if it's entirely true. Steve bites his thumb nail, and Tony grimaces.

"Stop it. What're you worried about?"

Steve shrugs, looking around. He looks back at Tony, unsure.

"It's...it isn't too much to ask?"

Tony laughs, taking a breadstick, eyes still skimming the menu.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. Trust me. I'm glad you asked me to try this place out, even though I did give you suggestions." Tony takes a bite of the bread stick, and _man does that taste good_.

Steve looks guilty at that. "Yeah, sorry, you were right. Super expensive. I felt it was too much for a first date."

Tony hums in reply, deciding on a safe sounding macaroni and cheese. Steve orders a soup of some sort and the date goes on as any other should.

  
~~~  
Six months and thirty days ago:

  
It's only ten at night, but Tony hasn't had some action in what feels like months (probably has been, actually). So, clearly, he's masturbating. Nothing new.

Except, he saw Steve today. Earlier.

Of course he did, but there was a shooting today, right where he and Cap happened to be taking a stroll literally two blocks from the tower. The thing is, right when the first shots were fired, the first reaction Steve had was to throw himself onto Tony. His back hurt like a bitch, and his poor head would have been crushed if Steve's hands weren't cradling it, but what actually threw Tony off, besides the actual throwing him off, was Steve's rock hard body on top of his, breathing heavily, his mouth right next to his ear. Hell, he damn near felt Steve's lips against his earlobe, when he asked, "You alright?"

Of course he was not alright! Tony had a blue eyed, blond haired, six foot too high, two hundred who knows what pound, too sexy for his own good ninety something, mentally twenty, year old man on top of him. Who even asks that question in a situation like that?

Apparently, that's what Tony's picturing right now, to help him get off.

Tony knows it's gross and perverted but he does it anyway; touching himself gingerly, hand already slicked so that the process can go on quickly. It's just an experiment, just to see how good, or maybe even bad, it will feel. He's never thought of Steve like this before; as something to help him feel satisfied, as surprising as that sounds.

He's never really had to do it before, but it was difficult in that moment, when Steve was right there, to stay focused and realize that there's a madman shooting up the place.

Tony sighs softly, hand wrapping around his semi-erect member. He starts slowly, giving himself soft strokes, closing his eyes, breathing in calmly. He forces himself to imagine Steve, just for the experiment, and pictures Steve on top of him, naked, jerking him off.

Tony furrows his brows, and his dick isn't getting harder so he imagines something else. Maybe something slower. Not so quick.  
Tony thinks for awhile.

Okay. Maybe a scenario.

_Tony...is in his workshop. He's working on Clint's arrows, trying to figure out how to make a new prototype that involves..._

Tony chews his lip, still touching himself. He hasn't gotten much harder, but that's probably (maybe?) because Steve isn't in the picture yet.

. _..acid. There. He's making a new arrow for Clint that can spray acid at its unfortunate prey. It'll have to have a very strong but small proximity device in the front, nothing too long but just enough to know when the arrow should unleash the toxin. Maybe there should also be some type of injection device installed, so that when the arrow does attach itself to a living enemy, it can also inject them with poison._

Okay, off track, off track. Tony jerks a bit faster, his dick now almost too limp. This would probably help if he just got himself hard in the first place, but all well.

_So. Clints arrows. Tony's working and Steve walks in, dressed in his uniform. No, casually. In a button up and a pair of jeans. He's freshly out of a shower—no, he just finished working out. He's in a white undershirt, and some sweatpants. He's sweaty._

_No._

_Tony is in the gym watching Steve._

_Steve's punching the bag in front of him hard; angrily. He has that look on his face, the one he has after a not so good mission. Tony still watches him, as he usually does, thinking of him as his boyfriend...as he usually does. Steve glances at him, and it sends a jolt through Tony's spine._

Tony exhales slowly, his hand going a bit faster. He thumbs over his tip, and he curls his toes at the feeling. He groans softly, when he imagines Steve completely stopping what he's doing, holding the bag still as he continues angrily staring into Tony's eyes.

_Steve marches over, and Tony freezes, staying still in the middle of the gym. When Steve finally approaches, he's close. Too close for anything to pass as normal, and his nose almost bumps into Tony's when he speaks._

_"Why're you watching me?" Steve asks, but Tony doesn't say anything. Steve comes a bit closer, eyes still glowering. "No, I know why. You've been doing it for months. You think I don't notice? That I don't see the looks you give me? Come on, Tony," he huffs, and he leans into Tony's ear, this time his lips actually touching. "I know you want me. I see it on your face everyday. I own you. And I don't even have to do anything."_

It's hot. Tony feels hot, too warm, but he feels it. Steve's presence, so close, invading his space.

_He kisses Tony's jaw, and then his neck. They're slow, light; feathery._

Tony can feel it, and it tingles every place that he imagines Steve's lips. His breathing is labored, and he twists his wrist again, letting the way his dick jumps and sends a shock, warm him up even more.

_Steve then touches his waist, circling, feeling. He trails up Tony's back._

Tony arches up into it, opening his mouth in a silent moan. He pulls down hard on his cock, teasing the exposed tip with a soft brush of his palm. He moans this time, loudly, and tries to catch his breath.

_Steve lifts his shirt, and kisses down his chest. He mouths the spot just underneath his belly button, opening up Tony's jeans, and pulls them down to his knees, along with his underwear. He looks back up at Tony, a dangerous smirk there that Tony has safely only ever seen twice._

" _What do you want, Tony?" He whispers, and he kisses both of Tony's thighs, and then focuses on the hip, nipping._

Tony groans, using his right hand to jerk off and his left to travel further, playing with his balls. He spreads his legs as far apart as he can, throwing his head back.

_Steve grabs his ass, kneading as he continues to nip along Tony's hip, leaving a trail of fresh hickeys. He gets closer to Tony's cock, standing proudly flushed against his stomach, but Steve ignores it, barely blowing a breath on it before focusing on the other side of Tony's body._

_"Come on," Steve whispers again, humming as he bites the inside of Tony's thigh._

Tony whines, sticking his left hand down farther, letting a finger slide up and down along the space between his balls and his opening, teasing.

" _Say it," Steve growls, and Tony makes a small, desperate noise._

Fuck. He can hear it. He hears Steve, he smells him, he sees him, he feels him. Everywhere.

_"Tell me what you want. What you've been wanting. I want it too, Tony. I want it so fucking much."_

"Steve," Tony breathes out, lightly, quietly. He plays around his hole, jerking faster. He's squeezing his eyes shut tightly, muscles constricting.

" _Scream it," Steve moans, and he bites harshly, grabbing a big chunk of Tony's thigh before sucking loudly, and then he licks the spot he tortured._

Dammit Tony can feel the saliva soothing him, trailing down his leg.

_Steve's tongue slides higher, back up to Tony's pelvis, right beside his cock. Steve gives a light peck, the side of his cheek barely touching. "Scream it," Steve repeats._

"Steve," Tony says a bit louder, and he moans loudly when he presses a finger inside himself, leaving it there for a second to settle down.

" _Faster." He hears Steve whisper. "Faster, Tony. Fuck yourself. Make yourself scream because of me."_

Tony tries to. He presses his finger in and out, quickly. The pressure in his gut increases, and he starts to curl into himself, his face scrunching up as he tries to reach his orgasm.

_Steve finally wraps his mouth around Tony, his mouth warm and wet. He slides down perfectly, never stopping until he reaches his balls, and despite his mouth apparently full, Tony can hear his voice so clearly as he commands him:_

_"Cum for me, Tony. I want to taste you. So bad. I'm sure you'll taste so good."_

Tony releases all over his hand. He pulls his finger out, touching his chest as he spasms, twitching here and there, cum splattering against his stomach and dribbling over his fingers. He breathes in and out deeply; harshly. His legs feel like jelly, and somehow sore.

The image in front of him immediately vanishes, and he opens his eyes and sees his dark room, alone.

He lifts his mostly clean hand up to his hair, sliding it away from his forehead as he tries to catch his breath. He looks around his room, unnecessarily wide eyed.

"Fuck," he whispers, regaining his breath, but not enough to be even close to calm.

"Fuck, this is bad."

  
~~~  
Six months and nineteen days ago:

  
Luckily for him, Tony is use to doing dumb shit and having to face people afterwards, so he doesn't exactly act awkward or ignore Steve when he finally has to face him.

Ha. If only.

Actually, what really happens is that Tony asks one of the stupidest questions that anyone can probably ever ask Steve Rogers, AKA Captain freaking America from the nineteen— _totally not gay—_ thirties and forties.

"Have you ever been with a guy?"

It's out of his mouth before he even realizes he thought it. Steve stops in his tracks, mouth opening and closing. He looks back at the workshop entrance, and then at Tony, skeptically.

"Excuse me?"

Tony shrugs, spinning a three-sixty in his wheel chair.

"Just wondering. What do you need, Cap?"

Steve blinks a couple times, looking back and forth between Tony and some other random item in the workshop again. He finally shakes his head to clear it.

"Um, no. I haven't. I'm here for the upgrade on the uniform. You told me..."

Yeah, yeah, whatever else Steve has to say is nonsense. What matters is that Steve says he's never been with a guy. He's either lying or telling the truth, but it's hard to decipher. First off, Steve said it right away, without missing a beat. For him, especially since he isn't the greatest liar, is a great achievement if he's lying. Also, what would be the point in lying? Embarrassment? Not exactly. Steve's been, for the most part, caught up in this side of American history. There would be no shame, especially in his eyes, to admit he's been with a guy before.

But, then again, he was in World War freaking Two. He never once did something with a guy?

...well, if one really thinks about it, it really isn't much of a surprise.

Tony holds in his sigh, and asks JARVIS where he put Steve's 'super suit'.

  
~~~  
Five months and seventeen days ago:

  
Steve sighs, slumping down onto the couch right next to Tony. Tony makes a small 'humph' noise, over exaggerating, but eventually scoots so that there's a bit more distance between them. Steve looks at him, frowning. After awhile, Tony groans and mutes the TV.

"Alright," Tony says, adjusting his position to face Steve. "What's happened, softy."

Steve searches Tony's face, and Tony immediately wants to look away. He's not so insecure as to cover his face up, people can try to figure him out as much as they want, but he can't stand watching them do it. Finally, though, Steve relents and looks back at the silent TV screen.

"We...broke up," Steve says quietly, and at first Tony stiffens, unsure if this is reality or not, and if Steve is talking about them. It only happens in a millisecond, but Tony is so disgusted with himself that it takes a couple more seconds than usual for Tony to speak. How could he think something like that? Their relationship isn't even real. Nothing that could ever happen. And here is Steve, the real Steve, in front of him, trusting Tony and willing to come to him after a ( _real_ ) break up.

For the first time since this whole 'game', Tony feels terrible about himself.

"I'm sorry," Tony says aloud, mostly talking about what he's doing. To himself. How long before it does hurt someone?

Steve shakes his head. "No. We both decided it was for the best. It's just...so lonely. I miss her. Or someone. I'm not really sure yet."

Tony almost goes crosseyed, ignoring the burning feeling of being insulted. Tony feels he's always been there for Steve, he has to have been. He's been the best boyfriend he could be. And friend, of course. That's the best of both worlds, and yet here Steve is saying he's 'lonely'.

Tony hums as a reply, and turns to look at the television, too.

Steve sucks in a quick breath, and Tony can see him playing with his fingers from his peripheral. He probably senses the tension. Fucking Steve, always able to read Tony.

"Not that—I meant lonely like, you know. Having that someone to go home to. I like having all of you guys, I'm not unhappy or anything—"

Tony quickly shakes his head. "No, hey, it's fine. I didn't take it like that."

"No," Steve shoots back. He turns so that he's properly facing Tony. "No, that was completely wrong. If Natasha or Clint heard me say that they would have already called me out. You've been amazing, Tony—"

"Really," Tony says urgently, suddenly hyperaware of how anxious Steve looks. "It's fine. I knew what you meant. No need to flip out."

Steve finally lets it slide, slumping. "Sorry, sorry, God. I've just—I feel like lately I've been insensitive. Part of the reason why Bec and I broke up. I was never careful with how I worded things, and I ended up just...accidentally pushing her away."

Tony shakes his head, unconsciously clenching his jaw.

"You've never been insensitive, trust me. If she's reading too much into what you say, that's her fault. That's insecurities she needs to deal with." Tony shrugs. "End of story."

Steve tilts his head side to side. "Well, it can't always be that way."

Tony shrugs again. "Alright, pal. Whatever you say. Just know that even someone like me see's how good you are."

Steve looks at him thoughtfully, eyes squinted. He makes a small noise before speaking. "And what's that suppose to mean?"

"Don't read too much into it," Tony says with a smirk. "Unmute."

The TV sound is on again, and the conversation dies quickly.

  
~~~  
Four months and ten days ago:

  
"We shall feast on thy Giving of Thanks again!" Thor announces, opening the fridge door with vigor. Tony sighs from where he is on the couch.

"Sorry," Tony says without much sorrow, "Bruce ate the last bit of Thanksgiving dinner. I'm surprised it's lasted this long," Tony says distractedly, tapping insistently on his tablet. He misses Thor's pout, but then it is replaced with barely contained rage.

"Then he shall pay for the terrible act he has committed, with a mighty vengeance that will force thee to square! Aye!" Then, as an afterthought, "If only we were in Asgard, in a proper arena to wield the great power of Mjolnir."

"Yeah buddy, not here," Tony says, biting his knuckles.

Steve walks in a second later, and Thor tells Steve his failed plans.

"Quite unfortunate," Steve mutters, rummaging through the fridge himself. "I think there's some pie left, though."

Tony shakes his head, tapping against his tablet again. "Nope. Nat took the whole thing to her room last night. With the whipped cream."

Steve turns to Tony incredulously, even though Tony doesn't look up. He slams the fridge door closed.

"What? The _whole_ thing? She wouldn't be able to—"

"With Clint," Tony adds distractedly. "I try not to think about what could have happened last night. Too...," he hesitates, tapping a bit harder. He sticks his tongue out as he focuses. "Distracting."

"The lot of you resemble a colony of rats, or a group of vultures," Thor grumbles heavily. "Or perhaps a pack of savage wolves."

"Yes!" Tony yells, throwing himself back onto the couch, one arm raised with a fist. "New high score. Beat that, Clint!"

"Bwa-huh?" Clint asks, walking into the kitchen with red eyes and messy hair. His shirt is dirty and he's barefoot, his shorts wrinkled. Everyone stares at him expectantly; Thor glaring, Steve with his mouth open, and Tony with a smirk.

He looks back and forth between the three, then shrugs.

"What?"

Steve looks back at Tony, and Tony looks back at Steve. Steve smiles, and it looks just a dazzling far away as it does up close, and the genius chuckles. It's a surprisingly tender moment, and for the first time in years, Tony feels a blush heating his cheeks.

  
~~~  
Three months and fourteen days ago:

  
"Merry Christmas," Bruce says, not looking up from his book. Tony stops in his tracks, looking back.

"Are you joking?" Tony asks, and Bruce looks up at him quizzically.

"Am I really the only one that remembered Christmas?"

"So, you're not kidding," Tony says, biting his thumb. He contemplates, unsure of how he could not have known. He decides that it does make sense after all, since he hasn't checked the calendar since December 9th and hasn't had a proper conversation with anyone important for the past week.

"Natasha, you, Clint," Bruce mutters, snuggling back into his chair. He lifts the book again to continue reading. "Next thing you know Steve doesn't know either, and Thor's the only one that brought presents."

Tony snorts. "Oh, I've got presents. They've been ready since August."

Bruce smiles, glancing at Tony from his glasses. "You, the King of impatience, have been patient enough to wait until Christmas to give out presents? I'm detecting a lie somewhere in there."

Tony tilts his head. "Well, JARVIS might have been in charge with most of the shopping—"

"Tony," Bruce mumbles, and Tony laughs.

"Kidding, kidding. I can be sentimental. Let me just wrap them up real quick and I'll give them to you with a bow."

Bruce sighs, turning the page to his book. "Wait until tonight. We still need to give the others time to think of last minute gifts."

"Last minute gifts?" Steve asks as he walks into the common area, freshly showered. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

Tony holds in a whine as Bruce looks up in surprise. "Yes! Thank you! Merry Christmas to you, too, Steve."

Steve grins as he heads to the kitchen, and Tony suspects that he's somehow laughing at him.

"Why? Tony forget?"

"Everyone," Bruce groans. "I was starting to lose hope."

Steve nods, and just as Tony starts to notice the back of his neck reddening, Steve covers it with his hand as he sighs.

"Actually, I hate to admit it, but I did too. I only realized when I went out on a run. Do you know how exciting it is to suddenly be greeted with Merry Christmas'?"

"I do, in fact," Tony says dryly, following Steve for no reason. He only realizes it when he's standing there facing Steve's back, and he quickly flies to a random cabinet when Steve turns around with a pan.

"Remind the others again," Bruce calls from the couch. "I've gotta go make a few phone calls. I'll be back before dinner."

Both Steve and Tony barely acknowledge Bruce as he leaves. Tony purposely moves in front of the stove, arms crossed as Steve tries to go around him. Steve backs up with a confused squint.

"You've got my attention," He says cautiously, and Tony raises a brow.

"Shouldn't I always?" He asks, and Steve rolls his eyes.

"Okay, no. I'm just saying that I got you a pretty neat present, but I've gotta make sure that you won't go crying like you did last time," Tony says, and he hopes that Steve won't take offense just as he finishes.

Oh, the price of asking for attention and not knowing what to do with it.

Fortunately, Steve only flushes a little. He then grins widely. "Trust me, it's nothing compared to what I got you."

Tony's eyebrows raise on their own accord. He unfolds his arms and lets his hands grip the stove behind him. "Oh really?" He asks coolly. Internally, he's freaking out. Did Steve actually get him something thoughtful? Or is he just giving Tony what he wants: attention?

Steve nods, and then his expression softens. "Yeah. I mean, it isn't...it's alright. Probably nothing like what you have for me though, now that I think about it."

Tony forces himself to laugh, shaking his head. "Come on, Cap. I'm only joking around. I'm happy with whatever you have for me."  
Steve smiles softly, and it does terrible things to Tony's brain.  
Steve's about to speak, but then the man's stomach growls, and Tony's eyes land on the pan in his hand.

"Oh," he says quickly, moving out of the way. "Sorry." He tries to catch himself, hoping to appear less like a fool. "You and your big appetite," he jokes.

Steve nods, setting the pan down and turning the stove on. Tony guesses that he failed, and then continues to fail by not knowing what else to say. He gives up, shoulders slumping.

"Uh, I'll see you later. I should probably call Pepper," Tony says, and Steve nods, awkwardly standing there.

Tony internally beats himself up as he leaves, calling himself every curse word he can think of. Idiot, idiot, idiot. They were having a moment, and then Tony goes and makes fun of Steve's growling stomach? After purposely getting in his way to talk to him, like a teenage girl with her crush?

No. Tony does _not_ have a crush on Steve. An infatuation, possibly, but even that's a bit farfetched. He likes Steve, but not so much as to want to date him.  
In real life, at least.

When was the last time he played 'Boyfriend'? When Steve broke up with that one lady? Bec? It was definitely around that time. Tony isn't sure. Either way, Tony's glad he's over it. It's lasted long enough.

  
~~~  
One month and twenty two days ago:

  
It hits him like a freight train; sudden, with no warning, and followed with a nasty headache (though, really, he'd be dead).  
He rubs his eyes, blinking hard. Steve stands there, his face flushed. The bouquet of roses in his hands start to droop to the left.

"Too much?" Steve asks, but Tony is still having trouble remembering how to breathe. Is this real? Is Tony dreaming? What happened to not having a crush on Steve? It was working.

Tony opens and closes his mouth, unsure of what to say. All that comes out is a very intelligent, "Uh."

Steve lets the roses hang all the way to the floor, his face paling as he walks into Tony's bedroom. Tony's body faces him.

"I wasn't sure what I should get. I thought a card was too little, and when I asked the lady at the cash register she said that roses would do."

Steve looks around Tony's room helplessly. More out of not knowing what to do than actually looking around but Tony feels embarrassed either way. His room is a terrible mess of clothes on the floor, mostly because no one has ever really been allowed in, and Tony's rarely in it other than to sleep and takes his clothes off.

"I was thinking it was a lot, but I thought—it's the thought that counts. And it's Valentines Day. It's the nice thing to do, right? It was this or chocolates and I didn't know if she was allergic or didn't like them," Steve lists off nervously.

Tony goes red, flushed with even more embarrassment. Oh. Oh. This isn't for him. Of course it isn't. Why would it be? Irrationally so, Tony gets annoyed.

He closes his door so that no one can peak in, just in case; who knows, someone can walk by and see Steve with roses in Tony's room. They could get the wrong impression.

"God," Tony snaps. "You didn't have to come to me at eight in the morning because you're nervous to ask a girl out."

Steve looks at him quizzically. "This is for Natasha."

Tony spreads his arms out. "Okay? Sorry, buddy, but I'm the last person you want as a wingman for Natasha. Clint could probably do better." He shakes his head. "Wait, no, Bruce. Clint would make it worse." He looks around his room to pull on an undershirt. He might have left one on the bed somewhere, lost in his sheets.

Steve stares, dumbfounded, and then laughs disbelievingly. "You really forgot, didn't you?"

Tony shrugs, lifting his blankets and peeking. "What? You and Nat are already dating?" He ignores the way his chest constricts. It doesn't matter. Except Natasha would look so much better with someone else. Steve is too Steve.

"I asked you to help me surprise Natasha last week. You know? Since everyone gave her crappy gifts for Christmas?"

"Pepper spray and expensive perfume, mind you, are not crappy. Bruce's poor excuse of a," he grabs his undershirt, pulling it away from his blankets grasp, "gift was crappy. A fucking encyclopedia for Thor?" He pulls it over his head, just in time to see Steve's eye roll.

"If it's a competition, I'm rooting for Clint. He gave me his stolen high school history book."

Tony grimaces, walking around to pick clothes off of the ground. "Yeah, that was either definitely last minute or definitely planned."

Steve suddenly smiles softly, and God does Tony secretly hate that stupid smile. It always leaves him trying to catch his breath. He quickly stops himself from grinning back and focuses on grabbing more clothes to throw onto his bed.

"You were really thoughtful, though," Steve says, and Tony clears his throat.

"Yeah," he replies, shrugging. "I mean, I tried. Could've done better." He holds his breath, and forces out, "But come on, you did so much better than me. Everyone was happy with what you got them."

Steve blushes. "I was happy with what you got me, too. I have it up in my room, now. Must've been tough giving it up, though."

Tony shrugs it off, throwing his clothes a little too roughly, causing it to scatter unflatteringly onto his bed. He ignores it and walks past Steve to grab discarded socks.

"It was my Dad's. Didn't mean much to me, but I figured if he liked it, you might, too."

"You were right," Steve mutters quietly, and Tony lets the conversation end there. Steve inhales sharply.

"Right," he mumbles. "Um, you forgot. Then. That's fine. Bruce and I've got it covered. I'll see you later."

He walks away, closing the door behind him. After a few seconds, Tony exhales loudly, sitting on his floor, throwing his socks back onto the ground. He runs his hands through his hair, sighing.

"This is fucked," Tony hisses. "Get a damn grip."

Later, when he emerges from his room, he almost steps on a single rose left in front of his door.

  
~~~  
One month and eighteen days ago:

  
"So," Steve says casually, walking further into Tony's bedroom. Tony begins to realize that Steve has probably been only the third person to ever walk into Tony's room more than twice. Rhodey hasn't even gone in here more than once. Then again, Steve does live with Tony. Or, the same building. Same thing. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

Tony groans, rubbing his eyes.

"Why're you always waking me up at the ass crack of dawn?"

Steve stays silent. Then, "Tony. It's almost twelve."

Tony grumbles, turning further into his blankets. Tony senses Steve's stare and sighs.

"Yes," he eventually says. After a while Tony lifts his head up to glare when Steve doesn't answer. "What? I said I'm free."

Steve crosses his arms. "Are you going to ask what for?"

"Doesn't matter," Tony mumbles, slumping back down into his warm bed. Steve chuckles lightly.

"Should've figured." He clears his throat. "How does Mary's Garden sound to you, eight o'clock?"

"I'll wear something nice," Tony says around a yawn. He blinks tiredly at Steve, and Steve nods in confirmation. He stays leaning against the door frame, looking at Tony almost quizzically, like he's solving a puzzle. He has that small smile again.

"I can never tell," Steve starts slowly, and Tony rubs his face to keep himself awake, "when you're being serious."

"For you?" Tony says, awakening, "Always."

He finally forces himself out of bed, and when he walks past Steve to go to the bathroom, he's still watching him in amusement.

~~~  
One month and seventeen days ago:

It's a cute little restaurant, only about a five minute walk away from the tower. Steve looks nervous the whole way there, rubbing his hands together randomly and glancing at Tony awkwardly.

Tony gives up trying to act oblivious. He casually wraps an arm around Steve's shoulders, but it only makes Steve tense. It left as quickly as it came though, as if Steve forced himself to calm down.

He gives a soft squeeze. "Is something wrong?"

They walk along side each other, and Steve turns his head to look at him. Their faces are a lot closer than they should be, but Steve's smiling softly, so Tony lets it slide.

"Sorry," Steve mumbles, and he leans into Tony. His breath catches in his throat for a second, but he forces himself still. He doesn't want to pull away sharply, in fear of ruining the moment. Luckily Steve does it for him, pulling away, but before he leaves completely he wraps an arm around Tony's waist and gives him a light squeeze as well.

When Steve is off of him and pointing out Mary's Garden after they've crossed the street, Tony forces everything in himself not to panic. In fact, he gives five seconds to put himself back together before he goes and deliberately forgets the whole thing.

It's a lot warmer inside, and Steve has finally stopped looking around, seeing who's watching. It really shouldn't matter, the Avengers go out in doubles or in groups all the time, but Steve's paranoia of whatever is starting to bug Tony. When they're sitting across from one another after ordering food and drinks, Tony grabs Steve's tapping fingers against the table.

Steve stops immediately, looking around again, for wandering eyes. Tony snaps his fingers from the hand not on top of Steve's.

"Hey," Tony says, "Right here. Seriously, what's up with you?"

Steve slumps, heaving out a great sigh. He twists his hand, turning to play with Tony's fingers for a second before jerking away. Tony ignores the way his heart swelled and the way his fingers still tingle.

"I'm sorry," Steve mutters, obviously frustrated with himself. "I know I shouldn't be freaking out, but I always feel like this looks wrong."

Tony blinks, trying to catch up. Once he does, he attempts an understanding smile. "It's okay. I get it. You're from the forties." Of course, the fact that Steve's got himself so worked up over the implication that this could be anything more than two friends eating out isn't quite the best thing to hear, but he understands.

Steve doesn't smile gratefully, but more nervously, and guilty. "Really? You don't mind?"

Kind of, he wants to say, but instead he shrugs. "No. I mean, it's a bit outdated, but I can't blame you for that, now can I?" Tony gives a playful wink, and to his astonishment Steve blushes.

"Thanks," Steve says, and he looks at Tony with determination. "I'll work on it, though. I know I was the one that," he pauses, turning scarlet, "asked you to dinner, so I can get why you might get annoyed."

Tony waves it off as casually as he can. It isn't as difficult as he thought it'd be, but mostly because Steve looks so determined, and the fact that he wants to try to get rid of whatever stigma he has is adorable. "It's fine. Now stop ruining this. Let's talk about something else."

Steve seems grateful for that, and apparently ready, because he's quick to fire a question with a light laugh.

A couple hours later, after they've had their friendly date and walked back to Tony's bedroom door, Steve gives Tony a tight hug, and whispers, "Thank you. It really means a lot to see you so patient with me."

Tony chuckles lightly, thinking back to their earlier conversation, and pats Steve comfortingly. "Hey, it's fine. I get it. Anyone who isn't needs to get off their high horse."

Steve pulls away to grin. He looks at Tony seriously, as if he wants to do something, but he seems to think better of it and takes a step back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I had a good time. We should do it again?"

Tony pretends to ponder, looking up at the ceiling. "Depends. Would he worry so much if people saw us out again?"

"Maybe." Steve jokes. "Have a good night, Tony," he says softly, and Tony salutes him.

"You too, soldier."

Steve grins, and he finally leaves, turning around to leave Tony alone by his door. Tony stands there long after Steve is gone, and he plays with the idea of what they had as a real date. He lets it slide, shaking his head and heading off to his workshop.

~~~  
One month and nine days ago:

They don't go out again until a little over a week later. When they're taking a stroll down a nearby park, Tony turns to Steve curiously, watching the way he looks down and kicks a rock a little too hard. It flies down the pavement, almost hitting several people before it's stopped by a benches sturdy leg.

"You're nervous again," Tony points out, and Steve looks up at the sky in clear irritation. Tony shakes his head quickly.

"Sorry, sorry. Same thing, right? About how this looks?"

"It's not just that," Steve says, looking around before stopping himself. "It's me, too. All of the internalized information of how...wrong it is. I could've been arrested for something as simple as this." He holds his breath visibly, and grabs Tony's hand. Tony lets it happen for several selfish reasons, and waits for Steve to let go. He doesn't. He keeps talking. "You see? My heart's beating so fast, Tony. This—this could have gotten me in prison."

Tony squeezes his warm hand, and does them both a favor and lets go. "It's fine. Luckily we don't need to be holding hands."

"No?" Steve asks, and Tony laughs in surprise.

"Alright, you know what I think? I think we both need some food right now," Tony says, avoiding the subject in general. Steve looks conflicted, so Tony points out a nearby hot dog stand. "There. Let's buy like a dozen and make the guys day."

Steve finally loosens up. "I can honestly say that the most I can eat is eight. And you can probably only take about four."

Tony turns to him with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge I hear? Steve, you underestimate me."

They make a deal, and by the end Steve eats eight while Tony starts to gag by his fifth. But he eats it, so he won that bet.

~~~  
One month ago:

"I can't believe you tricked me," Tony says. He's mostly impressed though. He blames it on the lack of sleep lately.

Steve chuckles. "Well, I needed to get you down here somehow."

"I just can't believe I fell for it," Tony says incredulously. "Why the hell would the faucet keep running?"

Steve shrugs. "It worked."

"So why'd you call me over anyway?"

Steve hesitates then, unconsciously tilting his head towards the mats.

"I was planning on a little training session. We haven't had one. Which I found a little alarming."

Tony huffs out a laugh.

"Oh really? It's alarming that I, a normal human being, haven't bothered to train with you, Captain America, one on one? I think there's a bit of a reason for that."

"It'll be fun," Steve insists.

"It'll be easy. That's probably the real reason, huh? Fine. You caught me. I have one flaw, but you have to admit, not everyone can proudly say they beat Captain America."

"It's Steve today," Steve says. He looks too kind, the bastard. "So no need to feel pressured."

"Yippee," Tony says sarcastically. "I still get to fight a super soldier. What are the chances?"

"I'll go easy on you. Now get changed; I know you have some clothes stashed somewhere down here."

He does in fact, so he's ready in ten minutes. They do some stretches, Tony chattering the whole time. Steve only sometimes grunts, barely giving worded answers until he's ready to get down to business.

"Alright. I mostly had in mind that you'd show me some moves that you know and we can go off of there."

"I know a lot," Tony says, tugging at his shirt. "So this might take awhile."

"Good."

Tony sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. They both straighten up, starting to circle around each other.

"So who else have you done this with? Probably Thor a lot, huh?"

Steve doesn't answer, watching Tony for his upcoming move.

They still circle.

"And Natasha? Oh, that's probably quite a sight. Lucky you, to touch all that with permission."

Steve finally twitches.

"Tony."

"Hey, I'm just saying. Be honest with me, you've at least thought of doing the naughty with her once."

Steve only blinks. However, he gives himself away by looking up for half a second. Tony catches it.

"Eh," Tony says nonchalantly, his hands raised. He has one shot and he has to make it good. "I guess we can both agree she's about an eight in bed."

Steve falters, his hands going down. "What—?"

Tony takes two long strides and strikes, his palm coming up to shoot a blow just at the bottom of Steve's chin. He does it hard, knowing he won't do any actual harm. Steve, surprised, has his head snap back, which was perfect timing to have Tony shove him, causing him to stumble.

Before Steve can compose himself, Tony sticks a leg in between Steve's, twisting and using his arm to push Steve backwards. He didn't count on Steve dragging him down with him, but as he feels himself falling he twists himself out of Steve's grip just in time to—

To accidentally fall perfectly onto his lap. Great.

Steve's eyes are wide, his torso right up against Tony's. He's too close to the blond but he doesn't move back because he can feel Steve's knees behind him.

They stare.

"Ah," Steve says, staying completely still. Tony freezes. Why is he still sat on top of Steve's groin again? "That was—that was smart. Great. No one's ever really thrown me off like that."

Tony nods. He finally gets up, forcing Steve to let his legs slide down. He isn't trapped anymore.

"Yeah," Tony says. "Distraction is always good."

Seeming to recover from that awkward moment, Steve stands.

"Keep in mind that won't ever happen again," Steve says. "I learn quick and I don't usually fall for the same trick twice."

"Luckily I've got a whole lot of other ways I can keep you distracted."

He doesn't get why Steve stays silent at first. Then he realizes how sultry he accidentally sounded. It's as if he flirts on autopilot all the time. Can he ever shut the hell up?

When he looks at Steve, the man is only amused. He's trying to hide a smile, which makes Tony feel proud.

"Well," Steve eventually says with a half shrug, "can't wait to see all of them."

As it turns out, Tony does have plenty, and not one was sexual.

~~~  
Twenty two days ago:

He watches Steve watch Natasha. He can admit that more than once he's been skeptical, but Steve's always been the same for people he cares about. He feels too deeply. He trusts too much. Steve will always put others first, but also as a way to be selfish. It's a great deception.

He's caressing her bruised cheek, his expression hardened. He's angry. He feels conflicted. Tony doesn't know when he was able to understand Steve so clearly; just now, perhaps. Either way, he feels safe enough to walk into the hospital room, but he knocks lightly first. Even with Steve's hearing, he seems preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Steve jumps still, but Tony only feels a little bad. For that, at least. Not for ignoring Steve for the past eighteen hours. They all needed the space, really. Steve realized that after the fifth phone call anyway, because he eventually stopped calling.

"Hey," Tony says softly, ignoring Natasha's sleeping form. She's so fragile looking. It's too out of place. But he nods in her direction because he feels that he has to acknowledge her at least once. "She woken up at all?"

Steve swallows and looks back down at her. His hands are behind his back now.

"No."

If he says it, he won't mean it. But he feels the need to. He chews his lip.

"I didn't mean to bail on you."

Steve doesn't say anything. He ignores it. He knows Tony's lying, doesn't he?

"Two broken ribs, three broken fingers, a fractured leg, and a concussion. She's got bruises everywhere, Tony. And her eye," Steve says, his hand hovering above her face. His hand clenches into a fist. "They're in custody. Justice will be served. But I still..."

"I know," Tony says quietly. Steve turns to him, his expression holding so much pain. Tony stays in the middle of the room, and Steve walks toward him.

"I was mad at you too," Steve says guiltily. "You just left. But...you guys are only human. She could have been any of you." He cups Tony's face. His eyes are shining from the unshed tears. "I know now that you probably weren't ready. I was being selfish and I wanted you next to me. But the more I looked at her the more I began to realize how fragile you were. Are." Steve gulps. So does Tony, but he's betting that they have different reasons for doing so. "Tony, if anything ever happens to you—"

Steve stops himself, and instead he leans in. Tony's eyes stay wide open, tracking Steve's movements. There's no way he's about to do this.

Last minute, Tony turns his cheek. He almost hates himself for it but another part of himself is proud. He wasn't about to let Steve make a decision he obviously wasn't prepared for. He also isn't on the right state of mind; too emotional to do anything rational. He cares too much, is all. It's not like he actually wanted to kiss Tony.

Steve's lips meet his cheek, the feeling warm and wet. Tony realizes that his lips are mixed with tears.

"Sorry," Steve mumbles against his skin. "Thank you."

He hugs Tony.

They stay like that, in each other's arms until the nurse arrives.

  
~~~  
Fifteen days ago:

It's his fault, really. If he had just kept his mouth shut and left Steve alone he wouldn't be in this uncomfortable situation. Not that he's ashamed; far from it, but it's Steve, and who wouldn't feel at least a little guilty for not being entirely holy?

He squints.

"Maybe...okay, counting ones that have lasted at least a month I'd say...just as an estimate...twenty. Roughly. More or less."

"You've had twenty relationships?" Steve asks in awe. Tony shrugs.

"If we're talking serious than I'd say about ten? I move on quickly."

Steve narrows his eyes. "And what about in general? How many people have you been intimate with in general?"

"Oh," Tony says, blowing out a long string of air. He scratches his head and then his beard. "Ah...I can't say. I really can't."

"You can't remember?" Steve asks, eyes wide. "You've had that many partners?"

"Including one night stands? Definitely."

"How?" Steve asks and Tony laughs.

"Hey, you might not see it but they definitely did."

Steve blushes. "Tony, that's not what I..."

He lets the sentence hang. Tonly sketches out random designs for fun, one turning out to be a pig with mechanical wings before he finally answers honestly.

"I don't know. It comes with money and fame, I guess. It probably doesn't help that I'm not really one to say no. Not that I'm complaining."

Steve nods thoughtfully.

"So have you always jumped right in? Never took it slow?" Steve asks. He seems genuinely interested, almost in wonder.

"Not really. I mean, I think Pepper was the only one that took awhile to snag but eventually she fell for my charm. We didn't have sex right away. She was clear with that from the beginning."

"Oh. You know, before I really got to know you, I never thought of you as a thoughtful person."

Tony snorts. "I'm really not."

"Don't say that," Steve says with an eye roll. "You're always so patient and willing to hear people out. It's sweet."

"Hm," Tony hums, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn't think it's exactly true but he lets it go. Let Steve believe what he wants to believe.

"When did you have your first kiss?"

Tony's eyebrows raise, looking back at Steve skeptically.

Yup. This is totally what he gets for bringing Peggy up.

"Psh. I was around twelve, I think. Just a little peck with my girl at the time. Nothing special."

Steve nods, his eyes having that faraway look. Tony looks away.

"Have you ever been with a man before?" Steve asks. He hears Steve shift from where he's at on the couch in the workshop, and Tony tries his best not to look back from where he's at from his work desk, curious to see Steve's expression. "I, uh, remember when you asked me and now I'm just...wondering about you."

Tony ponders it.

Innocent enough.

"A couple times, here and there," Tony confesses. "Sometimes there was a dude included in threesomes. Other times it would just be us. Never the same one...never bothered to learn their names. Never bothered being in a relationship with one."

"So we're kind of in the same boat then. Hm. Makes sense I guess."

Tony snorts. "Yeah, for once we have something in common."

He has the urge to look at Steve and the moment he does he remembers why he didn't want to in the first place.

He's smiling down at his lap; that cute little shy smile Steve accidentally lets out sometimes. It's terrible looking at it and not being able to point it out.

Steve looks up then, his eyes catching Tony's; he forces himself not to look away.

"I'm glad we're able to have this conversation without it being weird. I appreciate that Tony."

Tony waves his hand, turning back to his sketch of a walking cow with its nipples attached to a machine gun.

"Yeah. Not much of a closed off guy anyway. What you see is what you get."

He doesn't get the small laugh he expects. He doesn't look back at Steve; he can't. He doesn't want to see whatever expression he's wearing now. Instead he starts on sketching a goat with a Captain America costume.

"You always sell yourself short."

Tony shrugs. He erases the cowl; it doesn't look just right. The 'A' looks too narrow and the strap is too long.

Steve doesn't say more and neither does Tony. The atmosphere doesn't feel awkward but maybe just...

Disappointed.

~~~  
Ten days ago:

"Like all of us? Together?" Clint asks, eyes narrowed. "That sounds, uh—"

"Relaxing," Natasha interjects from where she's at on the couch. She licks her spoon clean, eyeing the inside of her yogurt before tossing it towards the trash can in the kitchen; the plastic hitting the top of it before the lid opens and lets the trash fall.

She winces after she makes sure she made the shot, clutching her side. The cast on her leg moves to the right as she looks to reposition herself.

Clint rolls his eyes.

"I told you not to—"

"Sh!" Natasha interjects. "'Tis but a scratch."

"It's—just stop," Clint says exasperatedly. "I'm serious, Nat, you can really injure yourself if you aren't careful."

"Anyways," Bruce says, cutting off the soon-to-come argument, "how does The Breakfast Club sound?"

"Boring," Clint says monotonously. "Let's binge watch Indiana Jones."

"You're one to talk," Natasha snorts. "Броненосец Потёмкин is good. How about that?"

"Ay," Thor says. "Seems a fine film."

"Yeah, no," Clint says. "Sounds boring. How about Scar Face?"

"What," Tony says, surprisingly listening from where he is on the couch adjacent to Natasha's, tapping away on his phone, "is everyone stuck in the eighties? Might as well watch some Back To The Future."

Clint sighs. "Alright, I'm gonna let you guys fight it out while I make some popcorn."

"JARVIS, keep an eye on him," Tony mumbles, and he smiles when he hears Clint snort.

Bruce and Natasha are in the middle of figuring out what to watch when Steve walks in, surprising Tony when he sits down next to him, rather closely in fact. His side is firmly pressed up against Steve's.

"Hey," Steve says, leaning in. "What're those two bickerin' about?"

"What movie we should watch," Tony says, sighing. He taps a few more times, finishing off notes, before turning the device off and setting it down on to the coffee table. He scoots to give them a little more space, though now he's pressed against the arm of the couch. He crosses his arms to make the distance between them seem less like an insult in case Steve got offended.

Steve perks up.

"Oh, great. It's been awhile since I've seen one."

Tony internally struggles with not talking, that nagging feeling in the back of his mind saying that he needs to start backing off and leaving Steve alone, coming out of nowhere. He doesn't know why he's feeling it; more like a gut reaction to fear, maybe, but he ignores it like the smart man he is.

"What have you seen so far?" He asks curiously. He can hear chatter in the background. Somehow he ignores it, focusing on Steve.

"Ah, not much, really. I tried to watch ones that came around...when I," he pauses, visibly adjusting. Tony nods in understanding, looking down at his hands in feigned interest. Steve continues gratefully. "Other than that I got around to watching The Sound Of Music, My Fair Lady, Mary Poppins—"

Tony's eyebrows raise. "Still pretty far then—"

"Well," Steve says, shifting uncomfortably. "I...movies these days...the women—some of their clothing—and, and the cursing, it's all...it's still..."

"Too much?"

"Overwhelming. Yes."

"It's still like going out in public," Tony says nonchalantly. "What you see there is what you see outside."

"Reality isn't the same," Steve refutes. "It's different still."

"Why those?"

"The movies?"

"Yeah," Tony says. "Mary Poppins? My Fair Lady? Why not Spartacus or In The Heat Of The Night?"

Steve tilts his head. "I watched those too. I've watched a lot from...the sixties?"

Tony nods, looking back at Natasha and Bruce, Thor intently staring between the two, but he only does that when he's pretending to listen. He probably has no idea what they're saying anymore. Tony smiles.

"If you say The Breakfast Club one more time—" Natasha threatens, and Bruce finally relents.

"Okay! Planet of The Apes then?"

Thor brightens. "Jane and I have watched and enjoyed the Planet of The Apes."

Steve's head snaps to them, opening his mouth, but Tony beats him to it.

"Not that one," he says before Steve can speak. "There's another one. A remake a couple years back."

"Oh."

Clint comes back with two large bowls of popcorn, leaves, and comes back with an additional two before scowling when he realizes they've agreed on Planet of The Apes.

  
Steve seems genuinely interested in the movie, which is good. Really good. It's just, now Tony can't concentrated on it.

Steve is still too close, and sure, he can use the excuse that he has the popcorn on his lap, leaving it easily accessible if Tony wants some. But they can just as easily leave the bowl in between them.

Oh, and Steve's touching his hand.

They aren't holding hands, that'd be too odd. They're definitely touching, though, and Steve isn't moving. Tony's not moving because then that'd show that he noticed, which he's trying hard not to, and anyways, Steve's the one that is touching him, so Steve should be the one pulling away.

That works logically somewhere.

He breathes heavily through his nose.

Steve is smart though. He has to know that his hand is basically on top of Tony's. There's only one explanation for this, and that means Steve just doesn't care.

Which pisses Tony off because it should be Tony not giving a single fuck. What's the big deal? They're only touching hands.

The heat of his palm is too comforting; the weight of it too natural. Touching is always an intimate act; a way to express comfort or pleasure.

God, this is too much.

He stands up, letting Steve's hand slide off of his. Steve looks up at him, concerned. Tony really doesn't want to lean in and whisper to him where he's going, but he also doesn't want to speak over the movie, so all he does is throw his thumb back and leave.

Seeing what kind of man Tony is, it's pathetic that he only lasted half an hour into the movie.

  
He's in the middle of reading through the files Pepper sent him when Steve walks in not even fifteen minutes later, looking worried.

Tony suppresses a long sigh and pretends he doesn't notice when Steve walks in.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks.

"Hm? Why wouldn't I be?" He answers distractedly.

"You just walked out. I think it was Bruce's way of trying to get us closer. Watching a movie."

"Oh," Tony says. "Sorry. Yeah, no. I just remembered I had something—"

"Was it because of me?" Steve asks guiltily.

Ah. So Steve did know. Why didn't he stop?

Deciding not to play dumb, he shrugs it off.

"No, no that was—that was nothing—"

"I'm sorry," Steve cuts in. "I shouldn't have—that was mean. I just assumed you were fine with it."

"No, I mean, it was fine. It's fine. You didn't do anything wrong."

Why the hell is Tony even saying it was okay if he totally wasn't? This doesn't make any sense.

"I know," Steve says, looking conflicted. "I just...okay. You're fine. Of course you're fine. It's just me. It's..." He takes a sharp intake of breath. "How does dinner sound? My place next week?"

Tony blinks four times. Before he knows it, he's nodding his head.

"Sure."

"Alright," Steve says. "I'll, uh, leave you to it then. I'm gonna—" he nods his head towards the exit.

When he leaves, Tony groans loudly, slamming his head against the table.

~~~  
Two days, thirteen hours, and six minutes ago:

"When did you get this place?"

 

Steve looks around after he closes the door for Tony. The apartment is small; smaller than he expected, at least. There isn't much in here. There's a mat in front of the door, a coat hanger, one long brown sofa against the wall with a small TV to the opposite of it, sat on top of a black TV stand. There's one large window adjacent to them, the orange sunset barely peaking through the white blinds. The yellow light is on, so that when it gets dark in about half an hour they won't be blind. There aren't any pictures on the wall.

It's definitely...something.

"Right around the time I moved in with you. I haven't been in here for months though. I had to clean up a little before you came."

"Huh."

They walk further in, Tony shrugging off his coat. Steve takes it, hanging it before walking past Tony and into the kitchen. It's just as small as Tony thought it would be; just big enough to hold a four person table towards the back of it. The food smells good though, so he'll give Steve credit for that.

"Take a seat," Steve says. "Everything's done. Just gotta make our plates. Steak sound good?"

Tony nods, feeling uncharacteristically awkward.

Before he knows it, he's got a glass of wine and plate full of steak, mashed potatoes and various vegetables placed in front of him. And Steve. Can't forget about Steve right across from him.

Why did Tony agree to this again?

"I haven't had steak before," Steve says as a conversation starter. Tony's eyes widen as Steve blushes, cutting into his meat without looking up at Tony. "I watched a video to make this. Thank Cassandra Jordan if it tastes good."

Tony takes a bite, then makes a pleased noise when it comes out tasting great.

They eat in silence, Steve probably waiting for Tony to say something, and Tony still wondering what the hell he's doing.

"You know," Steve says, when he's halfway done with his plate, gesturing between him and Tony, "this...ended up being a lot easier than I thought."

Tony chews slowly. "Oh yeah?"

Well, he's got to hand it to him. Cooking wouldn't even be hard for Captain America. Why would it?

"Yeah," Steve replies. Tony tries to focus more on the clinking of their knives and forks. Tony barely counts to five before he can't take the silence anymore.

"Must be the serum," he says as a joke. Steve looks puzzled. "You know," he continues, pointing at his head. "Memory. Stuff."

Steve's eye widen, his throat bobbing as he quickly swallows to speak.

"Oh, no, not the food," Steve says, chuckling in surprise. "I meant us. The way we are. I didn't expect it to feel so natural."

Tony hums, trying hard not to purse his lips and furrow his brows. He eats instead, tossing what Steve said around in his head. He tries to understand what Steve meant. Is he talking about their friendship? It isn't exactly adding up.

"Yeah," Tony eventually says. "I guess I can be a bit of a handful."

Steve furrows his brows.

"No, I guess—me. I didn't realize how easy it'd be for me to fall into this with you. Or how patient you'd be with me."

Tony stuffs his mouth, not getting what Steve is saying but nodding along. He opts to mumble, "Thanks, you too," around a mouthful of food. That should be good enough.

Steve nods, looking a little lost.

They create small talk as they finish what they're eating. It gets easier to act less awkward the more time goes by, and eventually Tony is sitting on the couch, watching Steve as he looks for a DVD, since he doesn't have cable. Of course he doesn't.

"Um...I've got Spartacus, Singin' In The Rain, The Music Man, The Pink Panther—"

"Oh, God," Tony says, covering his face.

Steve laughs in response, throwing the DVD's down before he walks back to Tony.

"Or we could do something else?"

Tony looks up, distracted by the tone of Steve's voice. It wavered a little, which is weird, and now that Tony's looking at him the man looks nervous. What the hell happened in the last two seconds? Maybe Tony accidentally offended him.

"Sorry," Tony says quickly, just as Steve sits right next to him, his expression determined. "We could watch Singin' In The Rain if you want?"

Steve seems to visibly relax when he says that, but he's weirdly leaning in. Tony watches him, transfixed.

Steve gives a light laugh, his eyes growing heavy as he jokes, "Tell me you wouldn't rather kiss a tarantula."

Tony meets Steve half way, not consciously, but what else is he suppose to do?

He's way too eager for a first kiss; Steve trying to take it slow and steady, but Tony dives in, pushing himself against Steve. He grabs Steve's neck, savoring the feel and taste of Steve like this, just beneath his fingertips. His lips are plumper than Tony anticipated, yet tough and just a bit chapped. They feel perfect.

He nips at Steve's bottom lip, slipping his tongue in when Steve opens up for him. The kiss is wet, warm, and Tony climbs onto Steve's lap eagerly. He doesn't know how far Steve wants to take it, since they are alone in his apartment, but he's taking what he can get for the moment.

Steve grabs his hips, then circles to encompass his waist, straightening up his back to dominate the kiss. Tony makes a small noise, almost like a grunt but not as deep, and Steve responds by dipping his own tongue into Tony's mouth.

They kiss for awhile, longer than they probably need to, before Steve pulls away to gasp out, "I should've done this sooner."

"Damn right," Tony mumbles, mouthing at his cheek. He takes Steve's lips again, giving him three more desperate kisses before Steve is pulling back again.

"Okay—I just—I don't think I can—" Steve begins to say. Tony interrupts him.

"It's fine. I'm fine with this too."

"You sure?" Steve asks. "It's been weeks, so I get it if—"

"Weeks since what?" Tony asks distractedly, lazily licking and nipping around Steve's neck.

"Since—ah," Steve takes a ragged breath, "well, you've been with me. I'd get it if you're a little eager."

"Not following," Tony mumbles, getting bored with Steve's neck. He leaves Steve's shirt alone, afraid that maybe he'd be going too far. He tries to kiss Steve again but the man speaks.

"Since we've been dating, Tony. I'm just saying it's okay to push me a little."

It takes a moment to process, and he freezes when his lips meet Steve's. The blond kisses him as he stays still.

He pulls away, blinking rapidly. He replays what Steve said over and over, but nothing is adding up.

"Wait," Tony says, putting a hand against Steve's chest to gently push him away, "did you just say dating? As in us, dating?"

"Uh," Steve says a little slowly, obviously trying to put himself back together. He furrows his eyebrows when Tony begins to climb off of him. "Yeah? What's wrong?"

"We've been dating?" Tony asks, standing up. "You—you think we're dating?"

Steve looks concerned then, reaching out to touch Tony. He backs away before Steve can, tugging at his hair.

"Are you alright?"

"Alright?" Tony asks, bewildered. "Fuck, Steve. This is—this is fucked up. We're dating?"

Steve's expression hardens, standing up but keeping a safe distance away from Tony.

"What are you saying?" Steve asks, his voice rough but pointed.

Tony sighs, rubbing his face.

"You like me," he mumbles to himself. "You want to fucking date me. I always thought about this, you know? You were my boyfriend in my head. God, I'm insane. I'm a lunatic, Steve."

"Tony, you're not making any sense."

"Nothing makes sense!" Tony groans, rubbing at his eyes. He still feels flushed, but luckily the half hard on he was sporting is entirely uninterested now.

"Just say it. Do you not want me anymore?"

"I didn't know, alright? Steve. I'm saying that I didn't know we were dating. How long have we been dating?"

Steve's forehead scrunches, squinting at Tony. After a second, he says, deadpanning, "You can't be serious."

Tony flushes, embarrassed with himself. He feels all sorts of things, all clashed together in one big heavy ball in his chest. Guilt. Shame. Anger. Sadness. Regret.

How could he be so stupid?

Tony doesn't answer, letting Steve figure it out himself. It doesn't take him long, of course.

"You're really...?" Steve takes a breath, sitting back down. He rubs his face, keeping it covered as Tony tries to fix whatever friendship, whatever relationship, they have left.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I like you. I do. I—I just—I had no idea that you'd even—that you'd—" Tony stumbles through his words, and he coughs to get his thoughts back on track. It doesn't help much. "That we could ever be a thing. I never would have thought that, and I rarely believe anything is impossible, but you? You—liking me? Us being something more? Steve—you deserve better than that."

"Better than you?" Steve asks, lifting his head. He eyes are red, not that he's been crying red, but he's been rubbing them so hard they're clearly irritated and puffy.

"Of course you deserve better than me," Tony bursts. "I—I'm busy all the fucking time, I have terrible communication skills, I lack sympathy, I can't relate to most people, I've got so many issues I can't keep count of them, and—and have you seen my track record? We wouldn't last a—"

"Why are you already pushing me away?"

Tony pauses, his mouth open in surprise. He racks his brain for something, anything reasonable, but he isn't fast enough to beat Steve.

"I've had you as my boyfriend for a month already, Tony. And I was happy with you, even if you had no idea you were suppose to be playing a role. I mean, imagine how happy I'd be if you were? If this is you being a friend, then I can only imagine how amazing you'd be as something more."

"That's different," Tony says automatically. Steve huffs.

"How?"

"Because—because—"

"I can't believe I'm the one having to do this," Steve says with a groan, and he stands up, taking Tony's hands into his own. He looks for his eyes, trying to stay focused on them as he says, "Tony, will you do me the honor of officially being my boyfriend?"

"You can't be serious," Tony mumbles, trembling. His heart is racing. Why is he freaking out? A moment ago he was making out with the guy. How is this any different?

Oh, who is he kidding. This is entirely different. This is an actual commitment, not a kiss he wasn't planning. This is Steve, asking Tony to be his.

"So you won't?"

Steve looks serious, but he can't fool Tony. He can see that the bastard is hiding a smile; he's laughing at Tony!

"Hey," Tony says defensively, trying to pull his hands away, but Steve's grip is tight enough that they don't pull apart. Tony's secretly grateful for that. "Don't laugh at me. I'm being serious. You do know that I've been dating you, too, right? You hear that? I was consciously pretending you were my boyfriend. You still want to be with a lunatic?"

Steve ponders, his face growing red, but Tony's starting to believe it's because he's trying to hold in laughter. How is this so funny to him?

Finally, Steve says: "As long as your mine, I won't mind."

Tony lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Oh, thank fuck."

Steve kisses him first.

~~~  
Now:

So, how the fuck did he get into this situation? Well, maybe that's how.

He's dating Captain Freaking America now.  

They're currently curled up in bed, Tony's bed, but it's nothing sexual yet. They haven't gotten that far, but Steve's already sleeping in his bed. Perhaps the first night really wasn't just a one time thing.

Well, technically they've just started dating. But realistically? They've been a thing since the beginning. Both of them were too dense to see it.

Still. It's nice having Steve like this, softly asleep against his chest. Who knew the big man was such a koala.

Fuck if that doesn't make Tony's chest swell. Goddammit. Steve'll be the death of him.

Tony absently pets his boyfriends hair, letting his mind wander as Steve drools onto his peck. He's so close to his arc reactor; he wonders why the light isn't enough to bother Steve. Hell, it bothers Tony most of the time.

Maybe it's because Steve's the one.

Or maybe that's the mushy side of his brain talking. It needs to shut up. It's embarrassing.

Still. Steve's definitely something else.

Steve stirs, and Tony stays perfectly still. Maybe it's his beating heart waking Steve up, too loud and persistent against his chest.

After a few seconds, Steve lifts his head, looking at Tony with one eye cracked open. He smiles after a few seconds.

"Hey."

Oh lord, he's only heard that voice twice now, deep and groggy, but he's already sure he'll never get enough of it.

Tony just smiles back, looking up at the ceiling. His lifts one arm behind his head, which causes Steve to move, but instead of pulling away, he lifts his head to kiss Tony, distracting him from his thoughts.

"You alright?" Steve asks against his mouth. Tony's suddenly glad they both brushed their teeth last night, so that he doesn't have to pull away in embarrassment. The first night, their first morning, was enough of an experience. Still, it was nice laughing it off together. Apparently steak doesn't do all that well for morning breath.

"Just thinking," Tony mumbles when Steve goes on to kiss his cheek.

"Think we're going too fast?" Steve asks, looking thoughtful. Tony shrugs. "I guess—I mean it's understandable. I've already had this thought in my head for over a month. This is entirely new to you."

"No, no," Tony says, shaking his head. "We're fine. You're fine. Anyways, like I said—"

"I know," Steve says with a laugh and an eye roll, "You dated me in your head. You keep having to bring that up."

"Just letting you know. Don't be surprised if I start doing more crazy, stupid things."

"As long as I'm the only crazy, stupid thing you're doing, it's fine."

Tony eyes him, amused.

"You aren't smooth, Rogers. Quit it."

"Only for you," Steve murmurs, and he leans in to give him another kiss.

Okay. Okay. It should be easy enough.

Maybe Steve was dating Tony. Maybe Tony has always been dating Steve. Who knows. It doesn't matter anyway.

Because now? Now it's for sure.

Steve's his boyfriend, and this time? _They both know it_.

**Author's Note:**

> Ooookay again, I love comments and kudos!! Thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> Omg, I really wanted to make them fight (when Steve realized Tony had no idea they were even dating) but I had to write that scene like five times before I realized I didn't even WANT them to fight about it. It just didn't feel right. Idk. What do you guys think? Would it have worked better if they fought and Tony begged for Steve's forgiveness ?? Was this ending too sappy ?? Let me know your thoughts !!
> 
> Oh and sorry if there are any awkward mistakes!! Let me know if you want :)


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